Liu Bian at the start, so you're called Dong Zhuo, right?

The day after the official in charge of the Prince's Palace finalized the draft, Luoyang City became lively.

The excitement isn't from the drums and gongs, it's from the mouths.

It started as just a few casual words in a tavern—

"The Prince of Chenliu's residence looks beautiful, but why is it completely empty inside?"

"I heard that the access control for the Prince's mansion is verified at the Eastern Palace, and even a letter has to go through the Crown Prince."

"This isn't bestowing a title upon a king; it's... keeping him in an enclosure."

This is just gossip in the marketplace.

But on the third day, the wind direction changed.

It felt like someone was pushing it from behind.

Someone in the Imperial Academy copied a passage of "discussion" and posted it on the wall; the handwriting was neat and tidy.

"The crown prince holds the young king hostage to secure his position, while the maternal relatives wield power to obscure the emperor's will."

Four short sentences, without naming names or insults, yet every word hits the nail on the head.

The students gathered around, some frowning, some nodding, and some whispering, "This is not something we can discuss."

But the more something is forbidden to be said, the faster it spreads.

That evening, someone was selling "newly copied books" in the bookstore.

A single page, a few lines of text, exchanged for two coins.

The seller put it casually: "It's just casual conversation. I'll buy it and take a look. It won't bother me."

—What doesn't bother you is what bothers you the most.

-

Zhangde Hall.

When Emperor Ling of Han heard this news, he was reviewing a memorial.

The memorial stated that the grain transport to the border prefectures was delayed, which made him frown. After hearing the eunuch announce that "there is a discussion at the Imperial Academy," his face immediately darkened.

"Who wrote it?" he asked.

The eunuch lowered his head: "I don't know. The Imperial Academy said that it was posted on the wall early in the morning, and the person who posted it ran fast."

Emperor Ling of Han sneered: "If it runs fast, it wasn't written by a student of the Imperial Academy."

Zhang Rang lowered his head: "I have already sent someone to investigate."

"You don't need to investigate," Emperor Ling interrupted him. "You won't be able to find out the truth, and you'll never find out the truth anyway."

"We need to suppress it."

Zhang Rang hesitated for a moment: "To what extent does Your Majesty intend to suppress it?"

Emperor Ling stared at him: "If you can suppress it, then suppress it. If you can't—"

He didn't finish speaking.

If we can't control it, it's tantamount to admitting that the capital is out of control.

But if the suppression is too harsh, it's tantamount to telling the world: there really are ghosts in the palace.

Emperor Ling of Han felt a tightness in his chest.

He suddenly realized: this rumor wasn't aimed at the Crown Prince, it was aimed at him.

What it undermines is the dignity of the "emperor bestowing a title upon a king".

—You were granted the title of king, but the world says you're being led by the nose by your maternal relatives and the crown prince.

This is the ugliest one.

"Go and summon the Minister of the Imperial Secretariat," Emperor Ling of Han said. "And also summon the Grand Master of Ceremonies."

Zhang Rang quickly replied, "Yes, sir."

He turned to leave, but Emperor Ling added, as if enunciating each word:

"Don't alarm the Crown Prince's palace yet."

Zhang Rang paused in his steps.

He understood: His Majesty wasn't protecting the Crown Prince, but rather fearing that if the Crown Prince made any move, people outside would say he was being "coerced."

Not being disturbed doesn't mean not being bothered.

As Zhang Rang stepped down, he had only one thought in his mind: This situation is not easy for His Majesty to resolve.

-

Chengde Hall.

Liu Bian sat at his desk, holding the briefing that Wang Ming had just delivered, and read through the rumors from beginning to end.

After reading it, he put down the briefing, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

Xun Yu sat beside him, not saying a word, just watching him.

Liu Bian put down his teacup and asked:

"Where is Cao Cao?"

Wang Ming responded, "Commander Cao has not been on duty these past few days; I will go and summon him."

"No need to call him." Liu Bian stood up, straightened his cuffs, and said, "I'll go find him."

-

Beside the training ground stood a row of guardhouses. Cao Cao was on duty there these past few days, spending most of his time during the day practicing his swordsmanship, reading military texts, and occasionally taking a patrol.

When Liu Bian arrived, Cao Cao was sitting at the door of the guardhouse, holding a cloth in his hand, wiping his ring-pommel sword.

Seeing Liu Bian approach, Cao Cao stood up, sheathed his sword, and clasped his hands in a fist salute:

"Your Highness."

Liu Bian sat down next to him and handed him the briefing.

Cao Cao took it and glanced at it.

Liu Bian looked at him:

"What does Mengde think?"

Cao Cao thought for a moment before speaking, his voice very flat:

"Rumors start quickly and disappear just as fast. If you nip them in the bud, they'll be gone in three to five days."

"What if there's more than one source?"

Cao Cao smiled briefly, so briefly that it was almost imperceptible, but Liu Bian saw it.

"Then pinch them one by one."

"After you've cut it off, let's see who gets the last thread."

Liu Bian nodded and stood up:

"Go ahead. Give them men or money if needed. Find out who's passing the message, who's keeping watch, and who's backing them up."

Cao Cao stood up and clasped his hands in a fist salute:

"promise."

-

Cao Cao never needed to repeat himself twice when doing things.

That night, he left the East Palace with a few men.

Our first stop was the tavern in the East Market.

The tavern owner was an old man in his fifties surnamed Ma. He had been running the tavern in the East Market for more than ten years and had seen all kinds of people and heard all kinds of things.

When Cao Cao entered, Boss Ma was clearing away the dishes. Seeing someone come in, he looked up and paused, the bowl in his hand momentarily still.

Cao Cao didn't beat around the bush; he sat down opposite him and placed a copy of the rumors on the table:

"Have you heard these words, Mr. Ma, these past few days?"

Boss Ma glanced down, his expression changed, but he didn't say anything.

Cao Cao didn't urge him, but simply took out a waist token from his sleeve and placed it on the table.

Boss Ma only glanced at it, but his legs went weak and he almost knelt down.

Cao Cao reached out to support him, his voice calm:

"I won't make things difficult for you. Just tell me, who said those words to you first?"

Boss Ma's lips moved, and after a long pause, he managed to squeeze out a name:

"It was...it was a copyist from a bookstore in the west of the city. His surname was Wu. He often came here for tea. That day he brought a few people with him, and the conversation started from him."

Cao Cao nodded, put the waist token back into his sleeve, and stood up:

"Thank you, Mr. Ma."

He walked to the door, stopped, and without turning around, added only one sentence:

"Boss Ma, you'd better forget about tonight's events."

Boss Ma nodded repeatedly, and only after he walked away did he realize that his back was soaked with sweat.

The second stop was the bookstore in the west of the city.

The copyist, surnamed Wu, was a thin, middle-aged man in his thirties. His fingers were stained with ink, indicating that he was someone who copied books year-round.

When Cao Cao found him, he was in a small room behind the bookstore, with an oil lamp lit, copying something with his head down.

Cao Cao pushed open the door and entered. He looked up, paused for a moment, then forced a smile:

"Sir, what would you like to copy...?"

Cao Cao didn't speak, but simply took out the copy of the rumors from his sleeve and placed it in front of him.

The man surnamed Wu glanced down and his smile froze.

Cao Cao sat down opposite him, his voice flat:

"Who gave you permission to send this?"

The man surnamed Wu opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.

Cao Cao waited for a while, and seeing that he still didn't speak, he stood up and glanced at the pile of papers that Cao Cao had copied.

He stopped scanning the third image.

It was a copy of a roster, with a string of names written on it and the amount of silver next to them.

Cao Cao picked up the copy, glanced at it, and then lowered his head to look at the scribe surnamed Wu:

"Is this the account book?"

The man surnamed Wu turned completely pale.

Cao Cao folded the copy, put it in his sleeve, looked at him, and said only one sentence:

"Come with me."

-

Three days later.

Inside the Chengde Hall, three items were placed on the table.

One of them was a copy of the accounts brought back by Cao Cao, which recorded dozens of silver deposits, each with a name, date, and person in charge.

One of them was a clue that Xun Yu had traced back from that account book—who gave the money, who said the words, who let them pass, who was the junior official in charge, which government office's gatekeeper didn't stop them, and what time they left the city.

There was another copy, consisting of several name cards. Liu Bian recognized some of the names on the cards—they were former protégés of Zhao Zhong. He didn't recognize some of the others, but Xun Yu had made a small note next to them:

"This person once accompanied Ma Yuanyi to the capital."

Liu Bian paused for a moment when he saw this line.

Ma Yuanyi.

Taiping Road.

He raised his head and looked at Xun Yu.

Xun Yu nodded, his voice very low:

"This is a line that even the Empress Dowager herself probably didn't expect."

Liu Bian remained silent.

He looked at the documents again, then stood up and straightened his cuffs:

"Prepare the carriage. We're going to Zhangde Hall."